


alpha and omega

by IneffableAlien



Series: Monsterfucker Elias Series [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Bottom Elias Bouchard, Breeding, Elias worships Jon, M/M, Monster Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Monsterfucking, PIV Sex, POV Elias Bouchard, Post-Apocalypse, Praise Kink, Role Reversal, Size Difference, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Wings, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27067900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableAlien/pseuds/IneffableAlien
Summary: Jonah Magnus was an alpha.  Elias Bouchard is not.Jon Sims was an omega.  The Archive is not.Elias gets put in his place post-Change, and he loves it.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Monsterfucker Elias Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975546
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61
Collections: Taken Down a Peg: An Alpha Jonah-to-Omega Elias Collection





	alpha and omega

**Author's Note:**

> So I have this bad habit of adding ficlets to multichapter collections only to realize that they really should have been stand-alones, whether because I want to write more about them, or enough readers got excited about the concept, or both.
> 
> Also, since not everyone likes A/B/O (I didn't, until, like, five minutes ago apparently) or monsterfucking, I don't want to keep adding these to my [Jonelias Blog Prompts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26603875) and inflicting them on general subscribers.
> 
> Sorry for the repeat posts! Enjoy!! xx

**1996**

_Suppressants._

Jonah shook with rage as he started to inspect the body of Elias Bouchard from inside it.

He was now doubly glad that he had killed that sorry excuse for a filing clerk.

One must try to understand, they did not have such things in the 1800s. There are tells, ways to clock someone taking the medication, but Jonah had been about as interested in that technology as he was in learning the latest Nokia.

Jonah— no. Elias (the sooner he got used to using that name, the better) gazed mournfully down at the blood-soaked body of James Wright. It had been a good one. He had enjoyed being tall, while it lasted; until he could feel himself growing feeble and stalked by The End. At that time he had made the preparations to move on, as he always had.

Elias could have Known. He would have Seen.

He’d been too presumptuous to Look.

 _Who would have ever thought to check for that?,_ he thought angrily, as though the young man he had murdered had intentionally duped him.

Oh, well. Now was not the time for regrets. Elias had to dispose of James’s body, take a nice hot shower, and scrub the dried blood that filled the lines on his face like pottery held together by liquid gold.

Later, he’d have to adjust to his new reality as a first-time omega.

**2018**

“Am I … Elias, am I still human?”

Elias felt himself grow hot as he took in the sight of his pretty little Archivist. God, but he smelled delicious, all that cultivated fear mingled with the omega’s climbing personal scent of sea salt and cinnamon.

One thing Elias had discovered early on was that his instinct for finding omegas, and scenting out heat cycles, although diminished in this body, was not vanished. Elias thought it might be more infuriating than if the ability had just been torn from him altogether. Because as it stood, Elias knew that his Archivist was entering a fertile phase—and there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about it.

In his more respectable office worker past, prior to having to live on the run and be traumatized again and again by different avatars, Jon Sims would have almost certainly started a round of suppressants by this time in his monthly cycle. Now, presenting as a filthy patchwork of bandages and bruises, Elias wondered if Jon even noticed how he reeked.

Elias swallowed subtly. “Jon,” he started, “what does human even mean? I mean, really?” Elias held it together, gentling Jon with his best manipulative but soothing words, but inside Elias was snarling.

 _There was a time I would have bent you in half over this desk for even daring to be alone with me while you stink like that,_ Elias thought. _I would have pumped my knot so hard in whichever hole I found first that you would have bled on it._ “You still bleed,” Elias continued calmly. If only. “You can still die. And your will is still your own … mostly.”

 _And how incorrigibly wrong is that,_ Elias thought to himself. _It should be_ all _mine. You should be mine. You are mine. I’d keep you bred—_

“That’s more than can be said for a lot of the ‘real’ humans out there,” Elias finished, with a beatific grin.

It should perhaps be noted that there is nothing inherently “lesser” about being an omega in society. An alpha needs an omega just as much as the reverse is true, and omegas on the whole have a quiet power about them.

That discourse means nothing to the Fears.

If it can appear that having an omega body is like a punishment, or that **Becoming** an alpha is like a reward, that simply is not true. For The Eye does not punish or reward. The Eye only shapes its ruined reality in all its eldritch glory into whatever it sees most fit to Watch.

And the one thing more delicious to watch than Jonah Magnus’s internalized horror at living life as an omega, was his terror at realizing that his Archive post-transformation was no doubt now a monstrous alpha.

No doubt, _his_ alpha.

When the Archive had finally reached the Panopticon alone, still some Jon left in it then, its pheromones had literally dropped Elias to his knees and made him cry out with the suddenness of his splintering _need_ to be mounted. Elias recalled how the Archive had approached him, slowly, like coming up on a scared animal, and ran its fingers through his hair. It had smiled as it allowed Elias to grab its ankles and rub his nose and mouth all over the Archive’s feet, all over the very blinking floor on which it stood …

It smiled because that was back when the Archive still had a mouth.

Now, Elias writhes under the Archive, no longer terrified of anything at all save maybe not getting properly pounded into the ground. It was good, it was ecstasy, belonging to his god like this. Elias might have regretted losing decades to believing he was somehow above being claimed, if not for the fact that being claimed sooner might have prevented this. Would he still be the Archive’s if another alpha had taken him first? He shudders at the idea of it, of being anything more than a reverent worshiper, a sprawling fuckslut, a thriving incubator for his perfect Archive.

The Archive Hears this passing thought of Elias’s as it slams into him, their foreheads touching, and the Archive answers, a single word that reverberates hundreds of times and rattles around Elias’s skull like rusty nails: _Mine._

“Yours,” Elias chokes in response. He desperately attempts to spread his thighs even farther apart, but his knees are pinned to his chest by the Archive’s weight and he only manages to wiggle ineffectually in a pathetic bid to be fucked even deeper.

That would probably not be possible. The size difference shouldn’t even have been possible, Elias thought. Before the first time that the Archive had fucked Elias after coming into its final form, when Elias first saw the increased size of it, Elias had wondered if The End had not truly found him after all. It hadn’t, though. It was like Elias had been made to be stretched and stuffed on the Archive’s cock, its eyes fluttering open and closed inside him.

 _I was made for this,_ Elias thinks to himself wildly. _This, this, I’m only this—_

 _Good,_ Elias hears the Archive think, and being _praised_ by a _god_ makes him whimper and clench around it. _So good, mine, you take it so good, mine hot wet **useful**_

Elias cups its pointed face in his hands. Its primary eyes stare into Elias’s, and Elias is hypnotized by their stygian hues. He strokes the iridescent fur of its cheeks, dusted the color of galaxies (how can it be that there is still something beautiful in this world?), and his whole body trembles beneath it.

The Archive drops its head from Elias’s hands to nuzzle the side of his face. If it were human this would mean breaking eye contact, but the Archive simply springs a line of eyes that cross down one side of its neck. Elias is transfixed, and he kisses every eyelid he can reach. Elias hooks his elbows under the Archive’s first set of arms and clutches for its back, gripping fistfuls of fur between its forewings and hindwings.

Elias’s head falls back, too fuck-drunk to be bothered when it thumps the floor a bit too hard. His eyes roll back. A few more of them blink in and out of existence across his collarbone. He can feel how slippery he is, his ass slick against the floor from the Archive wrenching orgasm after orgasm out of him. Elias’s cunt feels battered and sore, his cock mercilessly ground up against the Archive’s abdomen, and he never wants this to end.

Was this a blessing from the Spider, too? He knows he would have never chosen this body. Was it chosen for him?

“Thank you,” Elias whines nonsensically into the Archive’s shoulder. He is whining like a dog, he realizes. Fitting, considering that this heat has him completely out of his damned mind, and he has more or less been that way since the Archive arrived. “Thank you …”

The Archive pushes itself up onto its hands to stare with something like fondness down at its most treasured thing in this world. _Stay,_ it commands Elias, petting his face. _Stay._

 _Be Seen,_ it tells him. _Be bred. Be mine. Stay_

That was something that surprised Elias at first. He had assumed that he would have no choice in the matter. But the Archive had never kept him against his will, and he knew he could go out and create another domain if he wanted.

If he didn’t want this. If he didn’t want the Archive filling and pouring out of every hole on his body as many times as it could before Elias passed out, and sometimes after.

Elias moans, feeling the Archive’s cock start to knot and twitch inside him. There are tears pricking his eyes as even now the Archive won’t stop thrusting, catching on the rim of his gaping hole and stretching the folds around it. Elias wonders if he’ll tear. He knows he would welcome it.

“Don’t let me leave,” Elias begs hysterically, as he feels the first swell of the Archive’s orgasm flood him with heat. “Don’t ever let me leave.”

How long does the Archive keep him on its knot? An hour? There was no way to tell time anymore. But Elias knew that the breeding would take.

It always did.

**Author's Note:**

> xx [siliconealien](http://siliconealien.tumblr.com)


End file.
